Defeat
by bobdabuilder0804
Summary: COMPLETE! Alternate ending to S4. Jack in China. Please review! Sequel pending. COMPLETE!
1. On the run

Defeat.

The lone figure dashed through the deserted intertwining city streets at a rapid pace; not knowing where he was going, frantically trying to get away from his pursuers as he fought with the darkness. His black shirt clung to his skin as the wind blew against him, determined to slow him down. His shoes padded against the concrete roads and dirt trails as he tried to force his arms and legs to move faster. He could hear the foreign shouts in the distance and the fact that they weren't fading was worrying. They knew this place and could have people all over it in minutes. He was lost to his surroundings as he ran with his pulse pounding in his chest.

He rounded a corner and pushed off of the wall with a hand as though it would somehow propel him further away from the advancing shadows. He took short breaths as he urged his lungs to stop complaining and his ribs to stop aching, they'd taken a slight beating before he'd been taken off of the boat; this was the last thing they needed. He closed his eyes as he moved on, darting down alleyways and hopping over trash; avoiding anything which could stop his escape.

He turned and rounded another corner when he herd the shouts behind him, louder this time, clearer ever. At least the gun shots had stopped, he thought as he pressed on, urgently looking for an escape route. He could be going in circles for all he knew. Tearing down another street he risked a glance behind him and could see men in their green uniforms with there shaved heads chasing after him, advancing upon his despite his desperate effort to evade them.

Seeing another corner he realised this would be his last chance to lose them, if he were fast enough. Taking a deep breath he lowered his head and urged himself to go quicker. The balls of his feet were hurting from the pressure and the ache in his head got stronger as he rounded the corner and approached last chance to escape. He ran round the corner and straight onto the street, he was oblivious of the black car until it drove straight into him, knocking him off of his feet.

He hit the bonnet with a sickening crack and felt his head dint the windshield of the vehicle. It happened so fast he wasn't sure just what was happening; the force of the impact threw him over the roof and he hit the tarmac with a deadly thump before rolling to a stop. He tried to move, but the rawness and sudden intensity of the pain which engulfed him was too much, everywhere ached and his head was heavy. He saw the advancing men and the officer who climbed out of the car barking orders at them; he smiled at the man pleased with his hit.

The captive tried to move, he had to get away; but all he could manage was a feeble attempt to crawl before he collapsed back down to the road. The concrete was cold against his hot skin; he was still exhausted from the run, his heaving chest evidence of this. They were standing around him calmly, celebrating the catch, he knew. He couldn't make out the individual voices of the men; they all blurred into one long scream which ran through his ears and wouldn't stop. The faces of the men were swirling around with no focus; he felt as though he were on a fair ride being hurtled through the air or rushing down the drop of a rollercoaster at breakneck speed. It was too much, he thought dejectedly; he hadn't gotten away.

As the darkness seeped in he thought about the swirling faces, how they all looked and sounded the same as they mocked him; curled up on the road unable to move. More darkness clouded in and he was grateful for it; he didn't want to stay awake for whatever would happen next. He drifted away thinking about the irony of the darkness - it had been an opponent dampening his vision as he had ran; but not it was definitely an ally. It wouldn't last it would still take him away from here.


	2. No Escape

He awoke disorientated and in pain, aching all over. He was in the back of a military style truck, where the back section was covered by a green tarp like material rather than metal; which allowed him to see out of the open back. His head ached terribly, he didn't dare try to lift it in fear of intensifying the pain. The track was beaten and the vehicle swayed over bumps and mounds as the journey continued. The man deduced that they were moving into the countryside.

With this realisation he swallowed hard, knowing he had blown his one chance to escape.

They had first picked him up in LA almost four days ago, their armed guards had herded him into a van instantly. Straight from the van he was shuffled onto a big ship full of cargo; the journey lasted three long and endless days.

He'd been taken into the underbelly of the ship and pushed into a small room. Two men followed him inside and took guard on each side of the door, their cold stares never leaving him. A third man had thrown a black long sleeved tee and a new pair of trousers at him before telling him to change. They were cautious of trackers and had probably thrown his clothes off of the ship.

After the ship reached its destination he'd been ushered out onto a loading dock; the few bystanders who'd been there in the dead of the night had gawped at him and the Chinese soldiers as they had waited. For what, he hadn't know, and probably never would.

The journey had been terrible. He had been left undisturbed even through sleep; the men had even let him keep his watch. But then on the second day, he'd thrown up due to the lack of food and the guards had advanced and made him pay for his crime.

He decided he wasn't going to willingly let them take him somewhere else where the treatment would only decline.

One of the men watching him had been sloppy, as he leaned over to retie his shoe Jack took a gamble, knowing it could be his only chance. He felt cowardly as he anticipated his options, had he lost his pride during the journey? No, he knew that wasn't the case at all; he'd lived a life of luxury for the past year - how could he not want to escape his cruel fate?

He'd taken off running in no particular direction, trying to navigate through the thick of the night in a panic. He was fast and had surprised the soldiers which had allowed him to get so far. Or maybe he'd not gotten very far at all; after his collision with the car his memory was blank. And now here he was.

Trying to shift into a more comfortable position on the cold floor of the truck alerted the guards of his consciousness, but he didn't care. He shifted slightly to take the weight from his shoulder which had gone numb and watched as the buildings in the distance became smaller and smaller until there was only green in sight.

Averting his eyes he saw that he was unrestrained. They knew it would be suicide for him to try anything now; not that he had the strength to even formulate an escape plan. He was still dressed in the clothes he'd been given on the ship; he smelt stale, a mix of sweat and must. He closed his eyes as the bumps in the path rocked him back to sleep knowing this was probably the best he was going to be feeling for a long time.

He was roused from his slumber suddenly when he felt strong hands shaking his shoulders and barking demands at him, words he couldn't decipher. He blinked away the sleep as he was dragged out of the truck. The strong hands left him once he was on his feet and he collapsed to the floor; his arm automatically going round his waist to protect the bruised ribs. Surprisingly no punishment came this time, they left him alone until a podgy man wearing the same green uniform as everybody else had appeared before him and conversed with one of the soldiers in their native tongue, Chinese.

The men nodded and saluted the man before climbing back into the dust covered rickety truck; it sped away seconds later kicking up a trail of dirt. A sinking sensation settled into the prisoners stomach as he watched it leave, suddenly wishing he was still a passenger on it, getting the hell away from here.

Two new soldiers advanced, there whole appearance said 'military.' They wore green camouflaged fatigues and stood with a ram rod posture, sporting identical buzz cuts.

Looking past them the man noticed the three buildings. Made of grey concrete, they were each long and low, with protective wooden fences built around the perimeter He swallowed hard again, correctly assuming this was to be his new home.

The stubby looking man who seemed to be in charge began to speak, and the two men briskly pulled him to his feet before stepping away. He understood that he was expected to stand; and managed it with some difficulty as the pain in his head became more defined with each breath he took.

This time the officer stared directly at his prisoner, who refused to look away. He began uttering something in Chinese, before switching to clear English.

"Welcome, Mr. Bauer."


	3. Trapped

They passed by the first building at a brisk pace, Jack was expected to follow the officer as he strode through the compound. He tried to keep up on his shaky legs; the two remaining officers pulled him along each time they buckled beneath him. The sun was intense, the black clothes drawing it to him as they passed over the hard lumpy dirt with each step; there was no grass inside the high wooden barriers. Angry shouts could be herd from inside, they were unrelenting, it sounded chaotic.

The leader turned to Jack with a sick smile on his face as he eyed the mans discomfort.

"This is where the traitors live," he had snarled, his English perfect despite the accent. The soldiers gave no indication of hearing what the man had said; Jack assumed they would speak their native language only.

Each building lay next to each other, creating a long rectangular bulk of concrete stretching off into the distance. The barriers ran parallel to them on every direction; and in places small huts were positioned next to the perimeter. Look outs, Jack assumed, as he continued to scope out the area. When the first building stopped there was a hundred yard stretch of nothing before the next began, the pattern was continued until the structures ended.

Nothing but wood and concrete; and the sun baked dirt. A place of limited resources, Jack realised; to cause discomfort. The only thing which struck him as odd about the setting was the fact that the guards would experience this too. Obviously they would be given comforts, but he still imagined working here to be more of a punishment than career.

Through the second building music could be heard. Jack thought he saw the glimpse of a television through one of the low small windows but he couldn't be sure. It was the only one, which had windows, and so he assumed this was where the guards would live when off duty. The atmosphere around it seemed relaxed and non threatening, just people and their way of life.

As they passed the gap between the second and final building Jack felt a chill slowly work its way down his spine. There were more huts here, with guards stood at the windows staring out into the land, their riffles ready in their arms. The building was smaller too, he realised, wondering if it was significant of something. What scared him the most was how silent the air seemed to have become - there was no sound other than the soft pat of his feet on the ground, followed by the crunch as the heavy boots of the soldiers followed suit. Fear crept up through his stomach as he realised there was a reason for their bringing him here. Was this going to be his home?

He shuddered at the thought, his imagination playing games with his nerves as he wondered how it could possibly be so quiet. They arrived at a brown scratched door when the general turned around suddenly and stopped dead in his tracks. Jack almost walked right into him, he was so lost in his thoughts. One of the guards grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back a pace - no prisoner should be too close to the officer.

The man stared at Jack coldly as he continued to unnerve him. What happens next? A small smirk crept on his face as he knocked loudly on the door three times and it was quickly opened. Another two men came out, looking almost identical to the others with their shaved heads and expressionless faces. Had they all been brainwashed, Jack thought oddly?

The officer stepped to the side and nodded his head, Jacks thoughts were pushed out of his mind as a man grabbed each arm and roughly pulled him into the building. The door was slammed shut behind them and Jack tried to shake the hands off him, suddenly scared of what would happen next. The building consisted of a corridor, with metal doors lining the walls. It was almost pitch black, but there were dim wall lights between ever door bolted to the dirty walls. Cells, Jack wondered, as he was dragged towards the end of the building, now kicking and yelling as he fought to free himself.

The men were strong but didn't react to his struggle as he'd expect, they just continued to pull him along until they reached a door at the very end of the building. A code was entered and the door snapped open. His struggling had weakened but the opening of the door revitalised his efforts as he began to thrash away; he didn't want to do this - he didn't want to be here at all. He was shoved in the back hard and tripped over his own feet, toppling forward into the cell. He hit the cold floor hard and the door was closed behind him instantly.

No was nothing he could do now, he was trapped.


	4. The Waiting

Nobody visited him for the remainder of the first day, he was left undisturbed. The cell was small, 6 concrete walls all in all; nothing else. He had laid curled up on the floor, the aches from the escape becoming more pronounced from the cool air which filtered into the room. Outside it had been blisteringly hot but it was too cool now; the hairs stood on the ends of his skin. He felt sick, he'd still not eaten anything in four days - but he'd learned his lesson during the journey here and wouldn't let the sickness get the better of himself.

He passed the hours by thinking of LA, what a scene it would be. Would Erin return to CTU, would Tony and Michelle really leave the agency? Would Audrey ever forgive him for killing Paul? He let the questions roam around his mind like a stray dog; they were pointless things to wonder about as he'd never know the answers. Not any time soon, anyway.

Still he didn't stop the flashbacks and apologised from controlling his thoughts, no matter how painful some were. He had to think of something other than this; the waiting made him feel ill. He knew it was a tactic, if a person is left in isolation long enough they go crazy; this would be their first step in trying to break him down. But it wouldn't work, he thought determined as his daughter passed through his mind; he wouldn't betray his country.

It was the following morning when two new guards charged into the room. They stripped his clothes off of him before leaving seconds later. Jack was surprised with the sudden contact and worried with their action - what were they going to do to him? His nerves had been on edge throughout the everlasting minutes that passed before the men returned, throwing a jumpsuit at him. He pulled it on as the two men started at him, not relaxing until the men left again. Once alone he slid down the wall to the floor, noticing the colour of the clothing he'd been given. Green. He thought he was going to cry.

He tried to comfort himself with the presence of his watch; they still hadn't taken it. It made him feel better but he still couldn't keep himself calm. He was tense and scared, and too ill to think straight. He gave in to the pain in his stomach later that day and threw up over the floor. He expected something to happen but nobody came, he was left alone still. It made sense, he realised afterwards, it wasn't like they'd be taking him for a toilet break every day.

On the third day the treatment was substantially better, even if the smell and condition of his cell had declined. The guards had charged in, always two at a time, and handed him a paper cup of water and watched as he'd thirstily drained it. Taking the empty contained back they passed him a bread cake, which he also devoured. They only left after he'd finished eating. Curious, he'd thought afterwards, maybe they wanted to keep him alive.

As the contact had been so little, he'd wondered if maybe they were just going to keep him here as punishment until he died. But now he wasn't so sure, the creeping feeling returned as he was almost certain they were just softening him up before the blow came. He was unable to sleep on the third night, he was sure something was going to happen soon and he wanted to be as best prepared for it as he possibly could.

He was jumpy but there was no sounds to cause the paranoia - it was as though the silence was causing the panic that screams of pain would inflict. He was going stir crazy too, but didn't want to pace the cell in case it somehow triggered the attack. He was ready for it, almost eager to get it over with at times; but that didn't mean he wasn't afraid.


	5. Beginning

Jack lay on his side watching the hands on his watch through the darkness as the seconds slowly ticked by. His fourth day had just begun. He closed his eyes willing sleep to come but it continued to defy him, his mind wouldn't let him rest in anticipation of what was surely coming to him soon. He pulled himself into a sitting position slouched against the wall, almost unable to perform the task due to the lack of energy and strength; it was more aggravating than the wait itself.

Two blank faced guards entered the cell hours later, handing him another paper cup filled to the brim with warm water. Again he drank it down thirstily, handing the cup it back to the guards knowing they wouldn't let him save it. No food was given to him today though, instead he took a surprising and heavy kick to the face which sent him sprawling on his back as his vision began to swim.

It had begun, he realised, as the two men advanced on him and began stomping down on his fragile body, the heavy boots causing more damage than he cared to think about. Trying to crawl away turned out to be a futile effort so he curled up as best he could, one arm protectively bracing his ribs as he tried to shield his head with the other.

The guards continued to stomp on him, they laughed and shouted curses in Chinese which he didn't understand. He stayed as silent as possible not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing the yelps of pain he struggled to prevent. The effort to stay silent as they continued to advance was exhausting, he could feel the hot sweat sticking to his skin making him clammy and warm, but he wouldn't give in. This was just the first stage, the pain and conditions would only intensify. If he couldn't handle this he wouldn't survive anything else.

The pain seemed to become sharper when the soldiers finally backed away from him, smiles forming on each of their faces as Jack refused to move or acknowledge that the attack had stopped. He stayed put with his eyes squeezed shut in some sort of protest to them men as he continued to try and block out the pain, but he couldn't. He finally opened them to see the guards leaving, the door slammed shut with a bang and then there was only the silence and darkness again.

His head pounded terrifically while his stomach ached as he fought the urge to throw up again. He rolled over onto his back with some difficulty, but he knew if he stretched out the pain would eventually soften in his chest. He laid still as his ragged breaths slowly became more comfortable and the shaking in his hands and legs seemed to settle some.

He finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep, knowing he'd be left alone until the next day rolled along. He could see the face of the officer painted in his dreams, he smiled to himself as he slept, knowing he had survived the first round, and he'd certainly make it through the next one.

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	6. Increase in Efforts

Jack lay immobile on the floor, unable to move. Everywhere hurt more then he'd ever thought possible. His shoulders burned from curling into himself so tightly for so long, and the pain in his stomach as his lungs struggled to take in air was more then he thought imaginable. He coughed harshly as he tried to move, his ribs telling him not to bother as he returned to the position on his back, unable to move his arm from his stomach; he'd tensed it up so bad hoping to defend himself that he didn't dare move it away.

The pain was too much, he hadn't moved his legs in days out of fear of inflaming the pain in his foot. It burned while stationary, calling out to him that this was becoming too much; he was struggling to stay sane. His appearance would be a sorry sight he new. Caked in blood, spit and muck, his own muck; he thought back to the water he'd been denied today as punishment longingly as his throat continued to burn.

He moved his other arm to gently touch his face, it was swollen more than he thought possible and incredibly tender. He'd learnt to stop clenching his jaw when the soldiers came, it inflamed the pain in his face as the damaged nerves refused to take any more. His lips were dry and cracked, matching his parched throat. It hurt to speak or call out when the agony became too much, he could barely swallow never mind scream.

The past week or so had been hell. It had started with a beating and things had only intensified, as he had known they would. The guards continued to beat him fiercely, but he had remained silent. He'd promised himself he wouldn't lose his pride, and he hadn't. But it became too painful and hopeless to stay silent when they began to increase their inflictions.

He couldn't remember all of the things he had been subjected to, new horrors replaced old ones each day, he struggled to tell the difference between the days now. When he'd realised he couldn't focus anymore he'd scratched a tiny mark into the wall of his cell marking each day since he was thrown into the cell; the cell he was sure he would never leave alive.

The guards had thrown the bread cake at him this morning, it was the same shapeless, small and stale meal he was given almost every day, unless they decided he could live without it as they sometimes did. They had started on his foot three days ago, he'd spent the entire first night being sick all over himself and every 'clean' area in the cell. He'd barely acknowledged their presence earlier in the morning until he saw them come over to him. He'd tried to move himself away in a defensive gesture but it was too painful, his foot had been shooting white hot pain through is body before he'd even considered it.

The first had grabbed him from behind, one arm holding his head still as the other pinned him down, rendering his arms useless. It didn't matter, he was unable to use them anyway, he just wanted to pass out and wake up back in LA, it all having been a bad dream. The second guard had almost sat on him before shoving the food in his face, successfully getting some of it inside the captives mouth before he gagged and threw up over the man.

The man moved back horrified whilst the other laughed loudly, both leaving Jack on the floor wishing he could be anywhere else but here. The cup of water was thrown in his face and Jack had groaned in anger, his throat not being able to do anything else without the soothing powers of the water. He'd closed his eyes as he expected them to leave, but apparently they weren't finished with him.

The man covered in his vomit grabbed him again, making sure he had control over both arms. He watched panicked as the second stood over his slight frame, fear enveloped him but he wouldn't show it - he knew what was coming. The soldiers heavy boot slammed down on the mangled broken foot and a loud cry of pain echoed around the four walls. Again and again the boot came down, when he came too after passing out it just started again. He lost count of the number of hits his foot had taken this day alone, all he knew was the pain and the desire to escape from it. Even unconsciousness couldn't save him - the agony waltzing through the crushed and damaged bones were too much for him to take - it would be too much for anybody.

The foot treatment had started three days ago, he hadn't expected them to focus on one part as long as they had, he'd hoped they wouldn't anyway; knowing the possible lasting effects of this tactic. He could only pray they wouldn't start on his other leg once the fun on the current one ceased. He didn't know what he could do if they decided it was time to change legs - what on Earth could he do?

He'd tried pleading for water and he'd been kicked in the groin and spat on, before one young man had spoken in terrible English to him.

"You talk no!" The man had repeated it, spitting on him each time to enforce his point.

He wouldn't invite that treatment again, and he wouldn't beg for mercy either. He had promised himself he would be able to hold his head up high if he was ever given the opportunity to leave. Even if he couldn't walk away he'd leave with his pride, it was all he had left, even if he felt it slowly slipping away as each new day passed on and the treatment and conditions worsened.


	7. Helping Hand

Jack shifted his weight heavily, trying his best not to move the swollen and mercifully painful foot as he did so. He wouldn't allow himself to look at it - he couldn't bear the pain and he knew the image of it would only make it seem worse. Besides, his imagination was drawing up a pretty good picture of how the damaged skin may look, it was good enough to make him gip until the image was pushed out of his mind.

Reaching up to the wall he scraped in another shaky line in the cement with his sore fingernail, 14 days had been spent in this cell. He made today's line longer as he had on other particularly rough days, planning on looking for some sort of pattern so he could try and prepare himself for when the worst of the soldiers would come. He smiled satisfied with himself as he shrunk back down to the floor tired, they could beat him physically but not mentally - they would never take his mind.

He felt his eyes drooping some as he slowly pulled the sleeve of his jumpsuit up, looking at his watch as his arm shook before him. He couldn't see the hands through the darkness so he slowly pulled the sleeve back down to conceal his watch before closing his eyes. He tried to shift slightly onto his side so he could sleep, but the sound of approaching footsteps alerted him of another possible visit.

Panicking he frantically shuffled to sit up against the wall; he would be a sorry sight to look at but he had to retaliate any way he could. He was panting from the effort of moving and his foot hurt more than any words could express, he wished he could numb it or fit somehow - but it wasn't possible.

He herd the sound of electronic beeps as the soldiers prepared too enter the cell and his breathing increased. He tried to stop himself from hyperventilating but couldn't, his hands shook as he wrapped his arms around his thinning frame. He pulled his good leg up towards his body as though to shield himself. His bad leg laid splayed out to the side, he felt vulnerable as it was open for more attacks, but there was nothing he could do to protect it if they decided to punish him again.

Two men entered and Jack looked up, slightly confused as he noted they were wearing a different uniform to the soldiers. They were also wearing rubber gloves, Jack felt his face burn red as one of them began to gag at the putrid smell of the cell; he'd become accustomed to it after being trapped with it for so long.

The elder of the two remained composed, as though he was used to dealing with the conditions.

"Up up!" He demanded.

Jack looked up at him wearily, there was no threat in the voice, it almost seemed compassionate.

"Up up!" He repeated, taking a step inside.

Jack looked down to his foot and then back at the man, who followed his look until he saw the mans leg. His mouth parted as a look of horror was quickly masked by unease. Jack placed one hand against the wall to support himself as he tried to lift himself up. No sooner as he began to try and move the man spoke again, gesturing with his hands to help the prisoner understand.

"Down…" he paused trying to find the right word in his vocabulary. "Stay, stay,"

Jack nodded and sunk back down to the floor in relief, he was sweating with fear at the thought of being moved anywhere, he didn't have the energy to stand, how could he possible walk anywhere?

The man turned and spoke rapidly to his partner who had stepped outside of the room to clear his airways. Jack saw the small figure move away before the man turned back to him and flashed him a reassuring smile before busying himself by looking at the ceiling - he didn't want to watch the man before him - the state of him made him feel ill.

Of course he dealt with this daily, it was his job; but he always tried to be kind to the prisoners as though he could offer them a small piece of hope. But it wasn't often they had Americans here, and the state of the man, he was clearly being given worse treatment than most newcomers; he didn't normally have to deal with them in this stage of their punishment. They had experts for that.

Minutes later the partner came back pushing a small, rocky metal table on wheels. The man looked at him as he wheeled it in, his expression telling him it was all they had. The elder man went over, put an arm around the trembling man as he tried to stand himself up. Jack couldn't help but flinch when the mans hand first touched his back as he tried to steady him.

He was leant over almost standing on one foot, his face squeezed shut as the pain invaded his body once more, all of his injuries adding to the discomfort and pain his foot caused him. He leant against the wall, thankful the bulky man was holding him up, sure he would collapse if it wasn't for the help. They manoeuvred him so he was sat sideways on the trolley like table, his legs dangling over the side as he sat with his head down and tears in his eyes as they wheeled him away.

Were they moving him on to the next stage, or were they going to finish the job? The trolley rocked but the trip was smooth, he was grateful for the caution the seemed to take as they moved him to a large room stationed at the other end of the prison unit. Once they were inside the room the man closed the door before looking him up and down with a frown on his face. The younger man spoke this time, his English slightly better than his friends.

"You see Officer Chow, you need clean."


	8. Memories

Jack shuddered as the cold water washed over his bruised skin, he was excited at the thought of being clean again so he didn't dwell on the pain. The men hosed him down after stripping him from the filthy clothing, snipping the trouser leg away to save his foot the effort. He was appreciative of their efforts as he stayed slumped on the trolley; he was unable to stand up unassisted, if his foot weren't so injured he still doubted he'd have the strength to walk.

The younger man had eyed the watch as he helped strip him but Jack had violently pulled away when he reached out for it. The men had talked hurriedly to one another, the younger man clearly angry that he couldn't steal the valuable. Once they finished arguing the leader smiled at Jack before pointing to the watch in a non threatening way. They would leave it.

The two carefully scrubbed Jack down before taking him across the room and through a pair of double doors. It was bright and Jack had to shield his eyes due to the sting it caused - he'd not seen any light since his arrival. Once his vision cleared he saw they had taken him to a shower. He was helped to lean against the wall wobbling on one foot under the metal head before they moved away turning it on for him.

Despite the sting it caused in the cuts and scratches on his body he savoured the feeling of the dirt and blood being washed away from his skin. He kept a hand on the wall to balance himself and used the other to clean himself, washing away the soapy substance the men had covered him in to get rid of the grime.

He ran a hand through his hair and savoured the feeling of the fine strands between his fingers, no dirt or grease or blood mixed in with it. It was incredible. As he cleaned himself off he tilted his head back and drank the cold water greedily, the men watched him amused as he gulped down the water as it ran over his sore face. His throat was sore and the freezing cold water seemed to heal it at once, taking the pain away as he swallowed the liquid in a dream like trance.

After five minutes the water switched off, but he didn't care. He allowed the men to take him back into the next room as he sat on the trolley exhausted. Tired but clean, he felt better than he thought he ever could. He sat in a dream like state strapped to a wooden chair as the men carefully shaved away the weeks growth from his face. Jack sat still ignoring the pain in his bruised face as they worked; at least it took his thoughts away from the continuous thud pounding in his foot.

As they had carefully helped him settle into the chair the man had shown him the blade and tried to make the captive understand what it is they were doing.

"Beard hide," he had said, before rolling his eyes in a comical gesture. Jack couldn't help but smile, despite the agony and misery that surrounded him he felt safer, or at least less likely to be hurt again around the elder man. He seemed almost sympathetic and he hadn't hurt him yet - he was even careful to make sure he didn't hurt the damaged foot.

He stared ahead at the wall as they worked, muttering to one another quietly. He didn't know why they were in a rush to clean him up so much but he would never complain. For a moment he could forget he was strapped down to a chair in a Chinese prison, beaten within an inch of his life and half starved. If he closed his eyes and blocked out the sound he was in LA again, shaving before work with Terri rushing Kim through breakfast so she could drop her off at school. If he tried he could see their faces as they rummaged through the kitchen; he'd often watched them as they danced through the morning struggle to stay awake and get where they need to be.

He was snapped from his thoughts when he felt the shaving stop; the men were watching him now curiously as they waited for him to dress himself in the clean jumpsuit they had dropped on his lap without his knowing. He struggled to pull it on, his leg causing unbearable pain as he tried to slide it through the cloth - he couldn't suppress a quiet moan or two as he pulled the clothing on. No underwear or shoes were given, but then, what would he do with shoes when he couldn't even get his trousers over the bad foot?

He watched cautiously as the elder man pulled out a radio and began to speak to somebody in it. The fear was slowly creeping back inside. They had cleaned him and made him more comfortable; why give him a moment of rest and relief? There had to be a reason for it, or maybe it was just another tactic in breaking him down. Give him a rest so he think the pain will subside, then start right back in again. He nodded to himself, certain that was the tactic. The defences were slowly drawn back up around himself as he watched the men suspiciously, what would they do to him now?


	9. Anticipation

They took him back the cells, this time depositing him inside the room next to his old one. He felt a sigh of relief as he was helped down to the clean stone floor; he really didn't want to get dirty again, it felt so nice to be clean. He leant against the wall running a hand over his smooth face, a rash was forming as the soft skin wasn't used to going so long without a shave but he didn't care. He lay still admiring his new jumpsuit as he listened to the sound of the hoses as the two men from earlier cleaned out his old cell.

Resting his head against the wall he thought about what the man had said, he had been cleaned up because the officer wanted to see him. Was it the same stubby looking man who had first delivered him to the unit? It wasn't unusual if they were cleaning him up for the visit, a leader or man of power here wouldn't want to have to confront the smell or state of him. They believed they were too superior to have to deal with the likes of prisoners like Jack. Maybe they were right, he wondered.

He looked around the room, it was identical to the one he had previously lived in, only it smelt of stale warm air rather than the foul smell which had filled the last one. He took long deep breaths as he realised the pain in his chest and ribs wasn't quite as sever as before, even the pounding in his head had quietened down some.

Was this why they let him clean up, he wondered suddenly panicked? So he could rest, lure his body into a state of comfort, so the pain would be even more intense when they started smashing up his other foot? His breaths were coming faster again as he though about this, it would make sense if they wanted to maximise the pain and fear. Not that they hadn't already there, he thought bitterly.

The thought of the men harming his strong leg scared him, more than he thought possible. He didn't know how long he would be forced to stay here, but he knew his leg would still be damaged when he returned, the soldiers wouldn't allow it to heal. He tried to shut out the little voice in his ear telling him it was 'if' he returned, not 'when'. The thought of two crushed foots dimmed the hope, how would he get out if he couldn't walk at all?

The worrying became too much, once the paranoia began the fear fed it, making him curl up as best as he could without moving the foot or hurting his ribs. He gently rocked back and forth as he thought about what they would do to him next. The image of him returning to LA years later in a wheelchair with both feet missing almost made him vomit; but it seemed his body had done enough of that recently and he was able to stop the queasiness even if he couldn't control the fear. He was completely defenceless, they could do whatever they wanted and he didn't have a chance in hell of stopping them.

The panic became too much and he stole a glance at the damaged foot. He hadn't allowed himself to do so in fear of making the pain seem worse, if possible, in his mind. But now he needed to see the damage, living proof of how bad they could hurt him and what little he could do to stop it. Jesus! It wasn't like they even wanted anything from him; they just wanted to hurt him. That scared him more than anything else. In interrogations he could hold onto the knowledge that he would never give in. But when they wanted nothing, it made his mind spin as he wondered what he could do to possible make them stop. But he had nothing to offer - he was helpless.

The foot was swollen, black and violent purple bruising covered every area. Dry blood caked there areas where the skin had been dragged off by the soles of the soldiers heavy boots, his toes looked crushed and felt as bad. He tried to pull it towards himself but was unable to do so; it was too painful and he didn't want to ruin the new clothes he had been given already. Taking a deep shaky breath he laid it still once more, muttering silent prayers that it would go undisturbed until it could heal. He snorted aloud knowing the damage done was beyond repair, he wouldn't be surprised if every bone in it had been broken.

He pulled his other leg up and tucked his foot beneath him in some feeble attempt to protect it when they came for him again. He knew they would come; right now that was the only thing in life he could be certain of, that and the pain they would bring.


	10. Refusal

He'd drifted off into a state of sleep when the electronic beep could be herd. Jack didn't rouse though, he was far away from China. He was in Washington with Audrey, they were cuddled up together in the warmth of the bed sheets; until the guards roughly brought him back to the cruel reality which was now his life. He snapped awake looking around dazed, he could see the figures in his cell but it was too dark to see their faces. He subconsciously shifted back against the wall as though he could somehow melt into it.

The men moved in closer, the tallest leaning over to speak into his ear, his English as bad as the other guards.

"Up, up!"

Jack looked up at him doubtful, they surely would make him walk; and one thing he was certain of was that he wouldn't be able to do so.

"Up up!" The man demanded, striking his hand against the wall by Jacks head, grinning as he saw the flinch Jack wouldn't control. He shuffled towards the corner and tried to grip the wall with the palms of his hands. The two guards stepped back as they watched the man struggle to stand.

Jack managed to balance on one foot as he rested on the knee of his injured leg. He held his breath to deal with the spots in his vision the pain was causing. He straightened up as best he could, his knee raised slightly so his injured foot hovered in the air a few inches from the ground. He knew it was the closest the moving he could manage.

The guards sensed this but still signalled for him to move. Jack looked at them helplessly as a frown covered his face; he couldn't move but he knew they would make him. The smaller overweight guard moved forward as he pulled out his baton and advanced. Jacks face scrunched up in anticipation of what could happen while his mind made the observation that they had advanced from their fists and boots to this.

The man pulled his arm back as he prepared for the strike. Jack tried to move away and in the panic lost his footing and fell to the floor. Landing heavily on his foot he rolled over letting out a screaming yell from the explosion of pain as he pulled it out from underneath him. His breathing became faster as he felt light headed, unable to deal with the pain. That was before the guard struck.

The heavy stick came down on Jack's knee cap, the same leg with the injured foot. Jack shouted out in pain, moving his hands to protect the knee. The pain wasn't as intense as that in his foot, he knew it would be bruised rather than broken. Instead of subduing him it made him angry, in a fit of rage he began to yell curses at the men, his voice cracking as he let the insults burst out as loud as he could.

He kept his body leant over the leg as he did so knowing the men would get there revenge. He didn't care, all he wanted to do was hurt them, let them experience some of his pain. Physically he couldn't do that so he did the next best thing and degraded them as best as he could, the insults were non stop until the second man drew his weapon and they began to beat the man with them together.

The blows rained down on his back and shoulders, sometimes his head but not always. Jack continued to shout, incensed by the pain they were delivering; the fact that the men wouldn't understand what he was saying encouraged him. He couldn't think of the consequences, it felt so good to be able to scream and shout and just let go. Even if he would suffer for it later.

After another crack to the head Jacks body slumped over out cold, covering his leg even subconsciously. The guards finally moved back, sweaty from the work. The first turned to face the more experienced of the two as he wondered what to do now. Chow still wanted to see him.

A smile formed on the tall mans face as he spoke to the man in Chinese.

"Bring Sir Chow here."

"Chow will not visit a prisoners cell!"

"Tell him the American refuses to move. He will want to view the punishment himself if he has to come in here."

The two men began to laugh as they locked the door behind themselves, the prisoner laid still on the floor as his blood soaked into the fresh clothes.


	11. Retaliation

He could barely move when the guards entered his cell; he was stiff all over from the multiple beatings he had endured since his 'meeting' with Chow. It had been five whole days since his meeting with the officer, and he'd made good on his threat to punish him sufficiently for dragging him into the unit to see him. The guards had to wake Jack up for him to hear this, and the beatings had started again soon after. He hadn't been able to stay conscious despite his efforts.

The voices in his head had told him to be grateful they were leaving his foot alone as they had struck him over and over again. The voice in his head telling him to hold on was louder than the sound of the officers laugh, evil and haggard; it could be herd over his own cries of pain before he'd gone back to the world of make believe.

He had been left completely undisturbed the following day. This would have been welcomed but his throat was sore again and he craved a drink - he had been greedy in the shower, it seemed his throat couldn't understand why it was being denied what it wanted so badly.

His clothing was uncomfortable, blood had dried in patches and it clung to him, the smell was vile. It smelt worse then his waste - for it symbolised everything he had experienced in his life, and all that was to come to him until he was set free.

Not that they ever would release him - he had tried to concentrate on the smell of blood rather than the hopeless thoughts which plagued him. He knew if he slipped into despair he wouldn't survive. But did it matter, he had questioned himself, he wasn't going to pull through at this rate anyway.

The next morning two fresh faced guards had dragged him into a semi standing position before knocking him back down to the ground again. The process continued over and over until they allowed him to eat the bread cake they had come to deliver. Once the meal was over a guard had produced the water he was desperate to devour. He had smiled before spitting into it and handing it to Jack; whom they had made stand up again for the effort. Jack had took it with a shaky hand as he had stared into it. His throat was parched and tremendously sore; but it didn't stop him from throwing the contents into the guards face.

He had laughed out loud as the guard looked shock, uncaring of punishment. They would hurt him no matter what he did - he could at least do something which would earn him the pain they were eager to inflict. The laughter had turned into choking as the wet man had grabbed him by the throat, whilst the other, eager to join in, had stomped on his foot. Just the once, but the pain was enough to keep him out until the following morning.

He'd drawn a shaky scratch into the wall before passing out again, barely able to function any more. When he'd came too he was aware that the trembling in his hands was now beyond his control and his foot was hurting constantly, movement or not. He'd drowsily rolled over and curled up, trying in vain to warm himself up. In the end he had given in to the sleep which was trying to take him away - he was always warm in his dreams - even if the pain was beginning to follow him there. There was no escape from the pain anymore.


	12. Calm Before the Storm

After receiving the full extent of the promised punishment Jack was left alone. He lost track of the days, he was in and out of consciousness so often he stopped marking the walls. What did it matter anyway, he decided, after the final beating was administered.

There seemed to be a change in the atmosphere. The guards, faces he recognised this time; didn't seem to be enjoying the process of hurting him as much as before. They still taunted him as they pounced, but there was no laughter as he tried to defend himself. The silence in his own mind was stronger than their snapped utterances.; the effect was frightening.

He also noticed that they were back to the stomping again, that very last time. Sometimes the man just threw punches, as though they wanted to make sure the swollen face couldn't heal. Why had the method changed, when the batons caused more effective and immediate pain? The answer was simple but he still couldn't quite comprehend it, they were simply hurting him for the sake of it. It was a means to an end - not because they wanted to, or because it was part of the itinerary they were used to.

Although the abuse had stopped, the pain only increased as his injuries were left unattended. He found himself throwing up bile from his empty stomach and had struggled to role away from it once he was finished; determined not to get his waste on his cloths even though they were stained with blood.

He had tensed and curled up when the guards had entered his room after his throwing up, watching them sceptically as he waited for them to attack again. Instead the first man had tilted his head up from the cold concrete floor; it had intensified the pain and ache which drummed through his head, but it was worth it. The second man had crouched over him with a large jug of water, holding it to his lips.

He drank thirstily even though the water tasted odd; deciding his taste buds were to blame. Once he was finished the guards left, leaving him back with the darkness. He had laid on his side curled into himself, a hand gently touching the bumps on his foot. Why had they just helped him, instead of making him regret being sick? Of course the answer was simple - they had been ordered to. Round two was over.

The treatment had remained the same as he had drifted too and from sleep. The guards came in daily and waited for him to eat the bread and drink the water before leaving again. It was almost the same routine as when they had first taken him here, but he didn't like to think of it that was as he was scared he would have to go through everything again.

When he was too ill to move the men would help him drink the water, which Jack was grateful for, he was often too tired and weak to lift his head up; the thought of moving to the water seemed alien and a task beyond him.

Although the guards treatment was significantly better, he wouldn't allow himself to relax. He was paranoid again, as he laid in the darkness counting his injuries and what he thought were the days since the last one had been inflicted. When one of the young men lifted his head to help him drink, he always closed his eyes in anticipation, just in case they decided to slam his head into the concrete or crush his foot some more.

The fear hadn't left him; like the pain it stayed with him at all times, reminding him of how cruel these human beings would be when ordered to.

He lived a sad existence, he knew, he couldn't even conjure up the memories of Kim or Terri to help him anymore. He didn't want to bring them here, not to a place of such brutality and disregard for human life. Even in thought, he wouldn't subject them to this.

Instead he laid still, listened for the sound of footsteps, or the beep before the door would swing open. He was always waiting for the next strike to hit home. It had been almost a weak of solitude, the pattern would be broken soon. He knew it.

In his dreams the beatings never stopped, until they went too far and killed him. But in reality they were far too experienced to do such a thing. He would never be released from this hell. All he could do was wait. He didn't know what was worse, living in agony or waiting in pain for more. It would come, they were just doing their best to make sure when the time came he wouldn't be able to cope.

He was still been confused about the treatment, even though he knew it was to make the next stage more painful and effective. This was the calm before the storm, something big was heading his way.

He gently rocked himself back and forth on his shoulder to give himself some comfort. Tears had sprung to his eyes, it wasn't the first time they had come; but he had never let them fall until now.


	13. Prepared

Jack wasn't sure how long it had been before the two men arrived; the same pair who had given him his first shower. He could only assume it had been another 2 weeks, meaning he'd been here a month. Only a month, he thought, and I'm already half dead. He'd be lucky to make it to two.

He was unable to move when they tried to make him stand up, he didn't have the will to try. The guards didn't seem to mind the fact that he had barely moved an inch, so long as he drank the water when they lifted his aching head up. It had been a few days since he had received the final beating, and his paranoia had only grown stronger as his physical power had left him completely.

The kind man from before tried to lift Jack into a sitting position, but Jack just slumped back to the floor. The younger man stood by the door holding his nose because of the small again, at least this time he wouldn't get covered in it when he stripped the prisoner. The two men argued in hushed voices debating what to do. The elder man tried shouting at Jack, demanding he get up, at first he thought this was successful.

The weak man began to move before him, as he struggled to his hands and knees. Lei frowned when he realised the prisoner was merely trying to crawl away from them, as though he feared what they would do to make him cooperate. Unable to cover more ground than a few inches he gave up and collapsed onto the floor. The impact of the stone against his chest making him cough; Lei stepped away concerned as they mans hacking coughs increased as he wheezed through them, trying to breathe.

Sighing, he make the necessary signal to his partner, they would have to clean him in here. It was hard work moving their equipment to the cell, making sure they wouldn't be spotted by a guard who would surely drag the man to the showers. But if they did that he would be just as hard to clean, so there was nothing to be gained by moving him at all.

They snipped the stained cloths from his fragile form, he tried to curl up to protect himself from the shears as they did so, but relaxed when he realised what they were doing. They were not trying to hurt him. At least not yet, he thought, as he struggled to keep his vision focused on them through tired drooping eyes. He couldn't risk passing out, who knew what they would do to him them.

They washed him down with the hose and shaved the scraggy beard from his face. Lei was sure he had passed out at some point and was groggily coming around again as they dragged him to the next cell before they dressed him. The jumpsuit was the same, and the younger man was sure he herd a moan of hopelessness as they dressed him in it. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had been from the pain he was in; his battered body said more than words ever could about what the guards had subjected him to.

Lei didn't even want to think about the condition of the mans foot either; but he wondered what crime the man had committed to earn such punishment. Shaking his head he lead his partner away and locked the cell behind him; it wasn't his job to wonder, and he certainly wasn't getting paid to sympathize. He snapped his gloves off and pulled on a fresh pair and he prepared to visit the next prisoner, the American already out of his thoughts.

The clean clothes and cell made Jack feel better but he didn't get his hopes up. They had beat on him after his last clean up; surely they would be coming soon. It took a great effort to move so he was splayed out against the far wall opposite the door; he was breathless afterwards but pleased he had been able to move himself. He was certain the guards would be coming soon, he wanted to be able to see them when they stormed the room. This was the only preparation he could do to be ready for them, and he knew he could never really be ready for the. He would always be defenceless here.


	14. Back to Business

The two guards charged into the room, Jack looked up at them with a defiant smirk on his face. He could barely move, but he had been right. He could feel it in the air as they approached him, for whatever reason they had left him alone for, it was over now. The ceasefire was over and they were back for more. Jack almost laughed as they cautiously approached him, a third man aimed his large riffle at Jack's midsection as the first two grabbed an arm each and began to drag him out of the cell.

His foot hurt as it was pulled limply along the floor but he ignored it, knowing the pain was about the become stronger, as it had before. They had been toying with him earlier, cleaning him up, helping him drink; for a moment he'd actually believed they might not want him dead. That was exactly what they wanted him to think and he had known it all along - he just hadn't been able to make himself accept it when the rest felt so good.

The hallway was almost as dark as the cell but there were small bulbs giving off a dim blue light every few feet. He tried to concentrate on each individual bulb as he passed it rather than the fear which was steadily growing in the pit of his stomach with each echoing step the soldiers took.

They pulled him into a cell near the room where he had been allowed to shower. It was slightly larger than the cells he had inhabited, and a brown wooden chair sat against the wall. Jack wondered if it was for him as his mind began to filter back to the last time he'd been seated in a chair. The thoughts fluttered away when the soldiers dropped him on the floor as a bright light in the room came on suddenly, startling him.

He had to initially shield his eyes as the light filtered into the room, having become accustomed to the darkness during the past weeks. Once he could finally see clearly again he looked up and saw a single bulb hanging from the ceiling; it wasn't that bright after all. He ignored all of the insignificant thoughts running through his mind, trying to distract him from the fear as a man walked in. More specifically, the officer - Jack could still hear his manic laughter as the guards had beaten him into the ground before. He looked away out of fear as he wondered what they were going to do to him this time - Chow was here for a reason.

He watched timidly as the small overweight man sat down comfortably in the chair, hitching his trousers up before he did so. Jack couldn't help but smirk at the sight of the man despite his fear of him. His white socks were showing as he folded his hands onto his lap and stated at Jack expectantly.

Jack looked around the room slowly as he tried to get himself into a sitting position, the other guards weren't paying him the same attention as Chow. It made him nervous, and the need to sit stronger, as though it would help him control the situation. One of the soldiers who had moved him saw Jacks weak attempt to move and sent a fierce kick into the mans stomach, watching satisfied as the prisoner keeled forward and began to gasp for breath through the harsh coughs which he couldn't control. Two more soldiers arrived and the door was closed behind them - they were ready to begin.


	15. Ready?

Jack struggled to control his haggard breathing as he noticed three of the four soldiers stand behind him threateningly. He'd already been scared, the fear was eating him up. He was determined not to show it though he didn't know how well he was hiding it as he wiped his sweaty palms on the thin material covering him.

He was distracted from the thoughts in his mind, the ones pleading for him to be strong and face whatever it is they wanted to throw at him. He wasn't sure he could comply with his prides demands, part of him was glad of the distraction in his attention.

The man Chow played with a gold button on his uniform as he eyed up the prisoner. He opened his mouth to speak, and the cell fell silent. The air seemed to be still as the man spoke in his perfected English. Jack paid attention to his every word, trying to assess what they meant; the soldiers remained silent out of both respect and fear of punishment.

"I am a fair man, its something I pride myself on."

He stopped and leaned over in the chair as though he could somehow read the weak mans thoughts. He was waiting for a reaction, so Jack simply nodded, ignoring the urge to spit in the mans face instead. It would do him no good to provoke the attackers.

Satisfied with the response he continued.

"As I am such a honest man, that I am giving you a choice of what happens next."

Again he stared, making Jack even more uncomfortable than the words he spoke. He was having trouble concentrating on the man, his eyes were drooping - already wanting to pass out. He was too soft spoken, Jack willed himself to pay attention knowing the punishment would be sever if he didn't.

"Okay," he almost whispered, his throats soreness making his voice hoarse and rough.

"Good. I hope you appreciate my kindness - you like all prisoners are undeserving of it, but I have morals."

This time Jack could only stare in response, his eyes hardened and his jaw clenched, despite the pain it caused in his beaten, swollen face. The man didn't value human life - how could he be a just and moral man?

"Two options Jack, you select which one is most favourable to yourself," he said in a matter of fact tone, getting up from his chair now to pace before the man on the floor. He was clearly enjoying being the host of the show which was about to ensue.

He nodded to his associate who pulled out a sledge hammer, holding it with two hands to emphasise its weight to Jack, who was now sweating more heavily on the floor at the sight of the object.

"I don't like disobedient prisoners… In fact I despise them almost as much as I do Americans. Unfortunately for you, you fall into both categories."

Jack was about to speak, try and protest his innocence somehow, but he snapped his mouth shut as soon as it opened. He wouldn't give them what they wanted to see - panic, fear, desperation - he wouldn't show them any of it, even if each emotion was swirling around in his mind frantically. He couldn't take his eyes from the worn sledgehammer, even as Chow began to speak again, his tone deliberately slow and menacing.

"That foot looks sore," he said as he peered over at it, "you should get it checked out."

A smile broke over his face and the laugh soon followed. The soldiers joined in, not understanding what had been said but knowing they had to keep the man satisfied. Jack tried to shut it out form his ears, he could remember the same laugh infiltrating his senses last time, as he had struggled to stay conscious despite the blow after blow he had taken. The look of anger which filled his eyes was infectious, as Chows laugh abruptly stopped as he snapped out more words in his prissy accent as he spoke a language Jack was sure he didn't deserve to have mastered.

"First question Jack, and it's a nice simple one; multiple choice," he mocked. "This weapon," he said motioning his head to the burly man grasping it, "can cause sever bodily harm. Would you like your kneecap to experience this, or your hand. Decide now."

Jack looked up at the man shocked, what they hell was this? He stuttered as he tried to find the words to speak, but he couldn't find them. He didn't want them to do anything to his kneecap or his hand - why were they doing this? Chows smile disappeared when he saw the confusion on Jack face. He nodded to the men behind him before addressing them formally.

Jack felt the impact of the command instantly, as he was pinned down to the ground heavily by two of the guards. The third stomped down on his foot hard, the pain was more intense than he thought possible as every nerve roared in pain. The scream was loud, the pressure on his throat from the force incredible. He felt the pain send twinges up and down his spine as he tried to control it, but it was too much. The foot was brought down again and tears sprang to his eyes as he gasped in pain, unable to scream anymore. His throat felt as though it had been ripped down the middle - like his foot it couldn't take any more. He would have to suffer in silence.

His vision went dark and he prayed for it to take him away, to make the pain stop - even if just for a small period of time. Then Chow was shouting at him, warning him of the consequences of passing out - waking up to see he had no foot left at all. Jack knew he wasn't joking and would make good on his threat - the fear of the consequences was stronger than the pain as the boot came down a third time.

The soldiers scattered away as the man began to gip, saliva falling from his mouth as he gasped in pain, heavy wheezing sounds came from his mouth - it was all he could do as the pain took over his ability to think. Tears streamed down his face, in anger more than the pain of the abuse - anger that this was out of his control, that he couldn't stop them. Anger at the men for hurting him and his inability to protect himself. Anger at himself, for beginning to think that he deserved this.


	16. Broken Down

The shriek tore through the hushed silence at a tremendous pace, shattering the tension which had built up around them in the air. The sound was joined by Chows rumbling laughter, adding to the discomfort the soldier felt. Two were holding the American down, one holding his injured leg straight as the other pinned his arms and chest to the floor. There was no need - he was in too much pain to be able to stop them.

Chow had been angered when Jack refused to pick which punishment he would endure. Instead he had stared at the officer; after he had calmed himself from the attack on his foot. Chow had smiled as he had rolled up his neatly ironed sleeves, deciding that he wanted to do the job himself. He had started from the injured foot, moving his way up the shin slowly; having not yet reached the knee.

He paid a lot of attention to the now shattered ankle before moving upwards relishing in the mans pain and torment, it seemed to fuel him. The man had passed out but he didn't care, he continued the attack, knocking the man further away into oblivion. It was too much, they all knew it - even Chow.

He seemed to accept the fact that he would soon have to stop as he moved away, giving Jack space as he began to vomit the bile from his empty stomach onto the floor as he came too. Jacks eyes watered from the effort, his whole body trembling, the shockwaves sending shooting pain up and down his leg; it was too much. They all knew it. Defeat had settled into his eyes as he had rolled onto his back, watching the officer grasping the sledgehammer with tearful eyes.

His eyes were pleading with the man to stop, and he would, but not yet. He had a job to do. He observed the small speckled splats of blood which patterned his uniform and scowled, before going in with another hit to punish the man for that. If they didn't come out, he swore under his breath, he would be back.

Jack rolled as best as he could on the floor as another raw, long yell of pain surged from his throat. He had been naïve earlier, when he didn't think he could scream anymore. Of course he hadn't expected the degree to which they would go to, to ensure he found his voice again.

His movements were restricted as his leg was still firmly held in place; but his upper body was no longer restrained. Why bother waste the effort? He twisted over as though he could relieve the pain he felt trapped in his body, inside the limb lying limply on the floor, waiting for more torment.

He herd the soft tap of the salty tears hitting the floor as they rolled over his face, he couldn't stop them now; he was well and truly finished. Chows spirits, however, were not dampened, as he crouched down leaning over the prisoner threateningly, tapping the heavy object against the ground as he started menacingly at the man.

"Please," Jack whispered, "please, don't… please." Chow had to lean in to hear him, and was satisfied with the pleads, but he knew it wasn't over yet.

He could see Jack was fading again as his eyes began to roll to the back of his head; he caught his attention with a few slaps to the face.

"Please," he whispered again as fresh tears replaced old ones.

He didn't know what else he could do, to make them stop. He could beg and plead but he didn't have the energy of the focus to form complete sentences. They were not asking him for anything, he couldn't even give them false information to give himself a break. Who was he kidding, he would have told them what they wanted to hear by now if this was an interrogation.

Would he, his mind questioned as he tried to hold on to some sense of pride. Maybe. It was hard to know for sure; maybe the knowledge would have made him hold on. But this, complete unprovoked brutality, it was all too much. He couldn't hold on anymore, he wanted to let go and be free of this life, this torment.

The grin slowly faded from Chows face as he listened to the mans fading pleads as he thought for consciousness once more.

"You have a visitor Bauer, would you like to see your visitor?"

Jack looked up at the man confused, was this another trick? Was there somebody waiting outside who would hurt him ever more, maybe even take his leg? He looked at the man sceptically, why would he change the 'focus' in the room, all of a sudden? Maybe they wanted to catch him off guard, so he would be open to even more pain and abuse afterwards.

Looking up at Chow and then down at his leg, he swallowed hard before trying to nod his head. The effort was too much, so he let out a gruff 'sure,' before closing his eyes. Chow snapped an order and the men left the room silently. He followed them out so he could go and prepare, get himself ready to bring the visitor in - knowing that the work was sure to be complete once the American was alone again. They had finally allowed the darkness him away.

Please reivew ;)


	17. A guest?

The light snapped on again suddenly, illuminating the room and the mess which lay inside its four cold walls. Jack felt the light on the inside of his eyelids, but he couldn't rouse himself fully. He didn't want to wake up, he didn't want to be forced to face whatever was of expected of him next. He liked how he was feeling now, as he was half consciousness the pain was dimmed by his drowsiness - he could stay like this forever if he were given the choice between this and another round with Chow.

The electronic beep could be herd ,although it sounded off in the distance Jack knew it was merely a few feet away from him. He groaned aloud; having come to associate the beep of the door opening with the influx of pain. He didn't want to have to take anymore, he couldn't even if he had the morale; he was mentally exhausted and physically beat. He had lost; finally he knew what it was like to be on the other side of the fence.

The sound of the heavy door was opened, Jack lay deadly still hoping he could pass out again. He knew it was false hope, he was too alert, his instinct telling him to prepare for more as his pain barrier collapsed to the ground, out of order.

Jack herd the sound of the door slamming, he could hear the soldiers heavy steps retreating. Had they been checking on him, that he was still alive, or asleep? But the light hadn't been switched off, why? Were they going to wait for him to come too and then come in to start up where they had left of? God, please no, he thought to himself as panic settled in. He tried to calm himself as the panic rose along with his breathing despite the pain it caused in his chest.

He couldn't take anymore, he just couldn't. And what had the man said about a visitor - were they going to finish him off? He began to cough heavily as the thoughts continued to rampage around his mind, he was terrified.

He thought he herd a sound, something other than his own hurried breathing; but he dismissed it and decided it was his paranoia. He couldn't make himself open his sore eyes, the light was too strong, and he didn't know how he would react, when visibly seeing he was still here. He wanted to open his eyes and be at home, or at CTU, even Washington. Anywhere but here. He couldn't open his eyes, he didn't want to accept the cruel truth yet again.

Jacks head whipped to the side without thought as he herd another sound. It sounded like a sniff or a yawn, there was something distinctively human about it. Curling up a little tighter he realised he had been right all along, they were waiting for his defences to come down before they attacked him again. How silly of them, he thought, he had no defences left - they had taken everything from him.


	18. The Visitor

Jack lay deadly still, hoping he could somehow delay the next attack. He knew the exaggerated rise and fall of his chest gave him away but his desperation to relieve the pain outweighed his logical thinking. He would try anything if it meant escape from the infliction of misery; no matter how short the rest was - he would take anything right now.

He herd another sound, this time a shuffle, and he couldn't help but tense up, sure the person was moving towards him. The shuffled steps were light and Jack wondered why they differed from the soldiers stampeding boots so much. Something wasn't right. The lack of knowledge scared him.

Deciding he had to open his eyes and await his fate, Jack took a long deep breath. He relished in the last seconds of darkness, but before he could open them he felt something cold touch his cheek. He flinched away in fear, before the touch returned. It was soft, he realised, gently; almost caring. Why wasn't the cold hand trying to hurt his sore face even more?

Confused he opened his eyes, squeezing them at first as they shied away from the light. He saw the pair of eyes smiling down at him and gasped. Was it in shock or fear? Pleasure or guilt? Worry or pain? He didn't know, his emotions overloaded as he saw the figure before him, kneeling down unconcerned as his own bile began to soak through the persons clothes.

Was this real, he wondered, or was he hallucinating? He felt the cold tear drip onto his cheek from his daughters eyes and realised this was not the Chinese or his imagination playing tricks on him - this was real.

(Sorry this was so short I've been hanging onto it for days trying to plump it out but it wasn't happening!)


	19. Hidden Truths

Relief swamped him as he blinked away tears, the image was still there before him. It wasn't a dream, she was real and she was here and he didn't know what he was supposed to feel. His emotions were all over the place, he knew he should be worried they would hurt her but he was too blinded by his own pain and need; he needed her right now, more than she could ever know.

"Daddy," Kim screeched in a high pitched whisper, having trouble controlling her own emotions. "Oh God, dad…" her voice trailed, as she looked him up and down again; feeling sick at the state of him. What had they done?

"Hey," he said quietly, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. He bit back the cough he wanted to expel, the effort of speaking snagged on his sore throat; he could barely talk.

She was crying again, one hand sat on his cheek gently, it was warm and soft, he didn't want her to move. The second hand moved from his hair to his cheek alternatively, she wanted to try and offer him comfort but was utterly shocked and disgusted by his condition; she didn't know how she could help him now.

"Don't cry," he croaked, wanting to offer her some comfort himself. He wanted to tell her he was fine but he couldn't lie to her, and he was far from fine.

"What have they done," she muttered to herself as she shook her head from side to side, disbelief that this was really him controlling her as she knelt over him. He had tried to sit up but it wasn't possible, so he lay as still as possible on his back; the pain gone as he focussed on her. He had thought he would never see another familiar face again when he realised there was no escape; she had been the only face he knew he wanted to see again; he had ached over the thought of never seeing her again in this life.

The memories of his flashbacks of the three of them together, before Terri's death filtered into his mind and he smiled. The real thing was nicer, it made him feel better, like he had something to live for. But he still wasn't so sure, she would be gone and then he would be back with Chow again.

At the thought of Chow Jacks chest began to rise faster again as the panic reappeared. His eyes drifted shut and Kim wondered if he was losing consciousness; she was beyond worry as she tried to calm him down by speaking to him. She spoke of old times and the people they knew, hoping the talk of something he was familiar would could somehow calm him. It did, and he eventually reached a shaky hand up to rest on her head, before it dropped limply back to the cold concrete as she grabbed it and gently stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.

"What did they do to you," she whispered to herself as his eyes closed again.

Jack herd the question but somehow knew it wasn't directed at him. He felt light headed, dreamlike, but this was real. He wondered why he wasn't ashamed that Kim could see him in such a state, vulnerable, beaten down and abused. Why didn't he feel the need to seem strong and in control? Because he wasn't, probably. How could he convince her he was okay and would pull through when he didn't believe it himself?

Something else the Chinese had ruthlessly taken from him; his confidence.

Feeling a little stronger he focused on Kim again, and began to speak in a whisper, willing his voice to be stronger.

"How did you get here?"

Kim signed. She would have to be careful here, she couldn't risk hurting him anymore, his spirits were clearly non existent right now. "Chase tracked you down, with a bit of help from Heller."

Jacks eyes widened at the mention of Heller; he'd forgotten all about the man. He had been packing to go back to DC when they had grabbed him. Did Heller know where he was? He didn't have the will to ask. What about Audrey, what did she think, did she know the truth? He tried to push the thoughts from his mind; the pair of them hadn't crossed his mind before; why should they now?

"Heller talked to the governor here, he managed to get me here, and convinced them to let me see you."

So Heller did know where he was. Did they care? Were they trying to get him back? Had they abandoned him, as Stephen Saunders had predicted almost two years ago?

Kim smiled sadly as she saw the questions reflected in his mind. She couldn't tell him how her visit was classified, how Heller had worked discreetly, as the government were claming him to be MIA. That's what the women from CTU, Discrol had told her on the phone; that her father was missing. After a five day investigation Chase had uncovered that the higher ups had closed the case and changed his status to AWOL. Despite the fact that the Chinese had him, and had struck a deal with the government, Logan willingly sacrificing his life.

"They are working on getting you home," she added, as though she could strengthen his resolve. She hates lying to him, she new she was projecting her hopes into him as truth; it was wrong but she couldn't tell him the cruel truth. Tears were falling from both pairs of eyes now. He would never get home, they both knew it.

"How are you?" He asked weakly, he was going to pass out and he was afraid she'd be gone when he woke. She smiled, it was so like him to ask her this.

"I'm fine, but I've been so worried about you, thank God they let me see you," she added as she began to sob louder. It hurt Jack, knowing he was the source of her pain and that he couldn't stop it.

He smiled despite this, she was right he thought, 'thank God they let her see me.' A sudden thought struck him, it confused and terrified him at the same time. Why had they allowed her to visit? What would they gain from this? His face turned pale as his hands began to tremble again; they wouldn't allow this unless there was something they would gain; how was this helping them?


	20. Harsh Reality

Kim spoke of more past times as Jack drifted away again; knowing he couldn't hear her but not wanting to be silent either. If this was the last time they would see each other, well, she didn't want to waste it. Taking a few seconds to compose herself again she stole another glance around the room. Small and empty except for the chair; had he been living in this room since his abduction, in such dire conditions?

The smell of blood was overpowering, it constantly infiltrated her senses and reminded her of the physical mess her father was. She had almost fainted at the sight of his limb, battered and broken; the rest of him didn't seem much better either. He was bruised up and swollen everywhere, with cuts, scratches, bruises and grazes scattered about on his visible skin. She dreaded to think of the ultimate damage they had caused; and wouldn't allow herself to weight out the odds of his chances of recovering from them. Would he even be given the choice?

She tried to stop the cries, she had to get herself under control. She shouldn't have come, she thought angrily at herself, how could she leave knowing what would await him? He could barely respond to her he was in such bad condition - how could she possibly leave him to more of the same abusive treatment? She couldn't, she realised; but there wasn't much else she could do either.

She put her hands in both of his as she rocked back and forth on the floor to try and occupy her mind, remembering the words Heller had spoken to her. She could see his sad eyes in her mind, the way he had sighed; he had exhausted all leads and come up with barely anything. He was as upset and frustrated as Chase and herself; he cared about her father. Which is why she knew he wasn't giving her any B.S when he explained what would happen; he wanted her to know the truth. No matter how painful it may be.

"I have my best advisors working on it constantly, but in truth, nothing much is going to happen until Keeler's back in office. Logan is too pig headed to see his own mistakes - he struck a deal to hide your fathers actions under the rug, and he will keep this in play as long as he has to. I will continue to try and make him see different, but he is stubborn and inexperienced; and that's a bad combination."

"Will Keeler help?"

"I'm almost certain he will. He knows the extent of your fathers actions for this country. I think he will be truly angered by Jacks position; and I know he will not be pleased with his current AWOL statement, when the man willingly sacrificed a patriot. When Keeler's back hell will break lose."

"But Keeler is still in the hospital, he may never return to office," Kim had cried, surprised and comforted when the old man had hugged her tightly in a fatherly embrace.

"I know, it looks bleak. I'm doing everything I can in my power without being caught, so is David Palmer, even his old aid, Novick is even helping us, despite his concerns about betraying Logan. We are working on it, I have a feeling this will be made right in the end."

Kim had sniffed, understanding his point. Jack would be freed, but not for a while. The government wouldn't take the fall, he was their scapegoat. There was nothing anybody could do about it. But she couldn't just wait with no idea of how he was, where he was or what they were doing to him. Heller had reluctantly agreed to help Chase set up the visit, knowing his daughter was the only thing which would help Jack stay strong through this trying time. He couldn't possible know it was already too late, and that nothing could help him now.

Heller had been nervous about her going, but she had played her role perfectly. A distraught daughter unable to move on in life, she needed closure. It seemed the Chinese eat this up, hoping the 'consultants' would be off of their backs once the girl saw her father. Heller didn't realise the Chinese had been playing their own set of lies too, right from the very start. Now the game was coming to an end; and only one side could possibly win it.


	21. Dealing With It

"Hey," Kim greeted gently when she saw her father coming round again. She grabbed his hand from the floor and noticed how cold it felt, she tried to warm it up as she put her other palm softly against his forehead, he was freezing.

Jack smiled up at her drowsily; so it hadn't been a dream, she really was here. He was angry at himself for falling asleep on her; he knew this would be the last time he saw her, he was going to die here and they would not allow another visit. He was still confused as to why they had let her in at all.

The silence between them didn't last long, Jack needed to know what was happening in his daughters life. He needed proof that life was moving on outside of these four walls; it would give him something to hang on to once he was alone again, or with the sadistic guards who seemed to enjoy hurting him so damn much.

"What's been happening at home?" It felt alien to be referring to some place else as home, but he ignored it and tried to focus his full attention on his daughter, and not the pain which was freely coursing through his body.

Kim let out a short laugh, sure he was trying to divert the attention from himself.

"Its okay. Thing have been on hold since you left though."

She saw Jacks face scrunch up in anger and immediately regretted her choice of words; he hadn't left, he hadn't been given any choice in this at all.

"Chase has been even more overprotective of me since it happened," she said quickly trying to avert his attention, whilst putting his mind at rest about her safety. "He is in the city now. They wouldn't let him come, but he wouldn't let me see you unless he escorted me as far as he could."

Jack smiled at this as he croaked out a few more words. "Chase is a good man."

"He is," Kim agreed, wincing with concern as she watched her father begin to cough with the effort of talking.

Unable to stray away from the topic any longer, Kim decided to dive straight in and ask her the most troubling question on her mind. "Why did they do this to you?" The tears were falling again but she didn't care, she had no hopes of stopping them as she saw the glint of determination in Jacks eyes, trying to be strong again even though he wasn't capable of it. He would never stop trying though.

"I broke the law," he started, knowing how pathetic this excuse was. "I did it to save lives Kimberly, and I don't regret my actions."

She smiled, finally feeling some sense of comfort. He had done this for the greater good. She knew he would be happier as an innocent victim suffering for nothing, rather than knowing that lives had been lost and he hadn't done all he could to try and stop that. He was a patriot, and he had willingly sacrificed himself for the greater good. Again.

"I wish I could take you home," she cried, now leaning on his chest as her fists clenched around the bunched up material of her fathers clothes. This wasn't right - after everything he had done, how could they do this to him? How could they turn their backs on a man who was a legend, an American hero?

"Kim," Jack started; but he couldn't be herd over her cries. She was hysterical, she had faced reality and didn't like what she saw. She continued to cry into his shirt as she felt his hand weakly pat her on the back, it was the only comfort he could offer. She was mad at herself for allowing him to see her so upset, while Jack was angry that he had made her experience these emotions. It was a cycle never to be broken; not unless he were somehow freed from his determined fate.


	22. Lifeline

Tears continued to fall as they clung on to each other. Jack tried to imagine they were elsewhere, the four walls disappeared in his mind and he was back in CTU, six years earlier, where they had been huddled together in the corner of the conference room in a similar position. Terri had been found dead, Jack had just told his daughter news no child could possibly want to hear.

They had sobbed on each others shoulders through the night until they had managed to pull away and try to accept the harsh reality. Kim felt her father tense as she cried on him but thought he was in pain, physical rather than the mental agony the flashback had reproduced. Was she was hurting him? Jack opened his eyes and realised that he would rather be where he was now than reliving the memory, the hardest and most devastating time of his life.

They were both trying to pull themselves together without the other person knowing it, when the electronic beep could be herd. Kim dismissed the noise having no idea what it was, but was alerted when Jacks head whipped towards the door as a look of pure panic crossed his face, scaring Kim more than his condition. She stared at him as he focused his attention on the door, and realised what she saw was fear. He was scared for her. Despite his appalling condition and sickening future looming ahead, he was worried about her.

She felt her heart break again as she wrapped her arms around him squeezing him tightly, not caring of the people entering the room around them. This could be the last time she ever saw him, she didn't want to leave, she couldn't leave him to face more of this. But what could she do? Nothing, she realised as she grasped him tighter, as though she could make them disappear. She'd rather be anywhere else in the world right now; how could she leave him in this small cell in the middle of nowhere at the hands of such brutal and uncaring people?

The men entered the room and Jack instantly herd the clucking laugh of Chow, it made his skin crawl and his muscles tense as he hung on to Kim too. He couldn't help but feel like he was clinging onto life, he was scared; he didn't want to let go. When she was left, he would have nothing left. Nothing to live for, except the soldiers amusement; and he knew they were too professional to let him die.

It was simple, he wouldn't let go; they would have to pry her from his arms which bound her too him tightly despite how weak he was. Kim's grip was even stronger, she didn't want to leave her father, ever. They were both so desperate that they didn't hears Chows mocking words or his order to get Jack on his feet; knowing how much fun it would be to degrade the man some more, only this time before his daughters very eyes.


	23. Crushing Revelation

Chows voice snapped through the noise of Jack and Kim as they continued to cling to each other, tears falling freshly down both pain stricken faces. Jack, terrified and embarrassed by being reduced to something so low, weak and needy before his daughters eyes. Kim also terrified and shaken by her fathers condition and the fact that she knew the same brutal treatment would only continue until they finally killed him. What scared them most, although only silently confirmed, was their inability to stop this, to do something. They were both aware of how out of their hands this was.

The soldiers moved on Chows order, trying to separate the two as chaos broke out in the small confined space. As Jack was still slumped against the floor they grabbed Kim's arms to try and move her. Two almost identical men tried to grab her as a third began to force Jacks arms away. Kim screamed and wailed as the men tried to drag her away, she was hysterical and the mere contact with these beasts made her shiver in anger.

Jack pulled against the small young man holding him back as Kim was finally pulled away. He was surprised he could still struggle at all, his efforts increased with each of his daughters cries. He panicked each time he herd her voice, they were holding her at the other end of the small room, he had to get to her. Frustrated he threw a feeble punch at the man before more soldiers advanced to quieten him down.

Jack watched as they advanced, suddenly mad at himself for fighting back. What would they do now, to show him his place here? Would they hurt him in front of her, or would they make him watch as Kim was hurt in his place? He felt himself shaking as the mean faced man grinned down at him, eyeing his foot menacingly. Not knowing it, Jack swallowed hard as his eyes fixed on his still wailing daughter, telling himself the punishment would be worth it.

His upper body slammed back down onto the floor as the largest mans fist had landed on his jaw. Jack turned his head against the cool concrete to try and relieve the pain as he spat gobs of thick blood out onto the ground. Part of him was relieved that he could handle the pain while the other half of him feared more punishment.

Kim was still pleading and Jack was still furious but much too weak to try and save her. He slumped onto the ground defeated as he silently prayed they wouldn't hurt her.

It was only then he realised that her cries of fear hadn't been for herself, but for him.


	24. Accept It

Kim's distraught cries quietened down as she saw the man who appeared to be in charge, Chow, get up from the chair. He stalked over her slowly, stepping over her broken father laid unmoving on the floor. He stopped a foot away from her, but Kim still felt he was too close. She tensed as he looked her up and down, she didn't realise she had been holding her breath in fear until she decided to try and reason with the man.

"Please," she whispered hoping her father couldn't hear her; she knew her presence was damaging him even more, but she was too selfish to leave. She wanted to be with him, leaving was the last thing on her mind. "Please, leave my father alone. He didn't do anything, he doesn't deserve this."

Chows cackle silenced her for a moment but she tried again non the less.

"He's a hero," she pleaded.

The sick grin flashed to anger on Chows round face as his voice lashed out again. "He's a traitor!"

Jack could hear the conversation drifting through his senses. The word traitor made him tense even more. Even though used in different context Jack could imagine how shattered Tony must have felt when his 'traitors' verdict had been delivered over a year ago. No wonder Michelle had left him, how could he even try and recover from that?

"No, he is not. He saved your peoples lives that day, he saved hundreds of lives!"

Jack wanted to tell Kim to stop, this was making him feel worse. Although he didn't want to be alone again he started to wonder if it would be better when they made her leave. She shouldn't have to see him like this, she shouldn't have to plead her fathers case to people who weren't even listening to her.

"No. He killed out counsel. He murdered an innocent man. And now he must pay for his crimes."

Kim looked up at him as her eyes began to water again. She knew this wasn't entirely true, Heller had personally told her what had happened. But the cold distant look in the mans eyes told her the man before her believed differently. Their minds would never be changed, and she knew unless she did something, they would make her father pay for what they thought he had done. More so than they already had.

Chow turned around and walked back towards Jack, a grim but determined look on his face as he eyed the prisoner. He crouched down and slapped him across the face, grabbing his attention. Kim was being held back again, ready to strike Chow herself if it would buy them some time. He wrapped his thick hand around Jacks wrist threateningly as he spoke to his slowly, his stare intimidating Jack more than the grip on his arm.

"You know what you did Jack, don't you."

Jack stared at him as part of him wondered where this was going, the rest of him was trying not to cower in fear. He could hear Kim shouting in the background, demanding the men let go of her. But his full attention was on Chow, and what he was going to do next.

"You ordered an unauthorised attack and it resulted in yourself murdering an innocent man, didn't it."

Jack blankly stared at him as his insides churned at the thought of admitting to this. Yes he did, but he knew acceptance of this would result in more pain. And Kim was still here, wailing in the background as she tried anything she could to make the man lose his attention on Jack. This was the most they had ever spoken about why he was here, it made his curious and even more paranoid of what would happen next.

The pressure on Jacks wrist increased before he was rolled onto his stomach and his arm was pulled up behind his back, making him wince in pain as it was pushed farther than it should be. He herd Chows menacing whisper in his ear again and finally muttered 'yes,' in response to the mans questioning.

He had committed the crime. As unfair it may seem and as painful as the consequences would be; he did deserve to be punished. At least that's what he tried to tell himself as the images of Palmer and Heller flooded his mind before Chow laughter could be herd once more.


	25. Comfort

Chows laugh rumbled through the room as Kim glared at him, having fallen silent once more. She was angry at her father for admitting to killing the man; she knew it wasn't true. But why would he admit to a crime he didn't commit? The only plausible answer she could find, was that his confession would end the pain. But that was not her father, and that certainly was not Jack Bauer.

Chow and the men began to speak together in Chinese, their voices hushed as though the two Americans could understand their words. She couldn't help but detect a seriousness to the whispers and it made her stomach churn. She knew she didn't want to be here and see what they would do to her father, but she couldn't leave him. The two men hadn't let go of her arms, their grips not weakening; she was powerless to stop them.

One of the smaller men moved over to her father and kicked him in the face, looking up to Chow for permission before he struck again. Jack closed his eyes in weak protest to the assault, he could hear his daughters haggard screams and feel the pain sear through his body with each tremendous kick he took. But his vision was dark to the world, he didn't want to see anymore; he didn't want to be a part of this.

Deciding Bauer had been punished enough he nodded to the two men by the door, who released Kim from their grips. They expected her to run to her father as they had planned, but instead she stormed over to the man who had just finished his exhausting assault on the man and slapped him twice before being pulled away. Taking a breath they sensed her calm down before they let go for a second time, cautious of another feeble attempt to attack them.

Jack slowly peeked from one eye as he noticed the pain and noise had suddenly stopped. The silence made him cautious - had they taken Kim away? Has she left him, without saying goodbye? Were they going to hurt her to get at him some more?

"Kim," he called out worriedly as he finally made out her figure moving towards him. He reached out a shaky arm to her which she took before sitting down on the messy floor next to him.

His was still whimpering in pain and she began to cry again through sore eyes, defenceless against the tears and emotions roaring through her. She pulled his head into his lap and cried into it, her hands running through his sweaty hair as he closed his eyes. She rocked back and forth as she held him and Jack closed his eyes to try and envision some place else - this was the first small comfort he had felt in months. He wanted to savour the moment, knowing it could be his last.


	26. Tension

Growing tired of the soppy scene before him Chow decided to intervene again, knowing he would soon get what it was he wanted from the American.

"Make this quick," he snapped harshly, "you got five more minutes with him."

Kim still cradled his head, sobbing out loud as she cursed the man and his words. 'They couldn't make her leave,' she told herself. Jack closed his eyes and tried to savour the warmth he felt from her arms, trying to block out Chows words and the knowledge that this feeling, the safety and warmth despite the humiliation which surrounded it; would never be felt again.

He wanted to cry, but he wouldn't. He'd already let go before her in this cell, she'd seem him down, weak, wrecked and broken. He could at least try and appear strong before she left; he hated the thought that this could be her last image of him. A bruised mess on the floor, nothing waiting for him other than brutality and eventually death. He didn't want to think of himself this way, so the thought of his daughter remembering him as this pathetic excuse of a man made him shudder.

He reached up a shaking arm and softly patted her on the head before letting it drop back to the floor, hoping it sent her the comfort he had hoped to. He didn't move his head though and Kim made no attempt to shift either, they both feared separation - knowing it would be final.

Sharp clapping could be herd from the corner of the room, Jack slowly pulled away from Kim in confusion as he squinted around the room, propped up on one arm, to see Chows fat face smiling at him. His hands continued to clap, the repetitive sound making him tense as it continued. It was slow and methodical; Jack couldn't help but squirm. The motion had the same effect on Kim, who had slowly shuffled backwards as though threatened by the action; she didn't realise she had moved away from her father as her eyes had been fixed on his tormentor.

Chow stood up from his chair and slowly advanced over the space of the room, the clapping sound thundering against the wall. Each soldier pressed up against the wall were silent with expressionless faces, they too were uneasy with Chows behaviour.

Chow stopped at Jacks feet, he towered over the man. Jacks look of apprehension turned to a cold glare as he looked up at the officer, trying to look bold and brave; he had to hide his fear and intimidation from Kim. Suddenly the noise stopped and Chows meaty hands dropped down to his sides as the smirk slowly fell from his face as an evil frown replaced it.

Kim's mouth had fallen open as she had watched transfixed with the scene before her, she accidentally gasped in the silence, scared of what was going to happen now, and the fear that she couldn't stop it.

Chow paid the woman no attention, his focus was on the prisoner. He spoke and addressed the men without breaking his stare, before he translated his order into English for the American.

"Visit is over; take her away."


	27. Selflessness selfishness?

Kim felt the arms on her before Chows words had even registered their meaning in her mind, she was still shaken by his strange display of control and power just seconds ago. She panicked and screamed as she was dragged to her feet. Jack stared at her dazed as he saw her fight off the men as they tried to pull her to her feet - she was kicking her legs out trying to lash out at the men as her breath caught in her throat as she screamed harder and louder, hoping for some divine intervention.

Was she scared for herself, or at the thought of leaving him to die, Jack wondered oddly as he watched the scene before him; as feelings of helplessness washed over him not for the first time since his capture.

Jacks fists clenched as he watched her struggle, he wanted to run and hurt the guards and Chow for upsetting her, but he couldn't move. His limbs were heavy and his vision foggy - why wasn't he saving her? Was is his subconscious knowledge that he may be unable to, even if he tried, he wondered? Because he knew that he could not logically save her, he didn't want the embarrassment of failing? He shuddered at the thought of that - that wasn't Jack Bauer - he always tried despite the odds.

Tears filled his eyes as he glanced up at her again, she was screaming his name now, crying for her father, but did she want him to help? He looked down at his own hands again, knowing Chow was still closely watching him. Why weren't they wrapped around those men's throat, he thought sadly?

Did he think that perhaps it would be better if she were made to leave, so she wouldn't have to witness any more of his pain? Is this what he had become, somebody so selfish that he would allow his daughter to be so heartbroken and scared to save himself pain? No, he told himself, he was being hurt by doing this, doing nothing… but it was for the best; Kim shouldn't have to see anymore. Ultimately he was saving her pain… Wasn't he?

He hit his fist down on the hard floor as his emotions continued to confuse him, he didn't know what he felt and he didn't know why he wasn't trying to help Kim as she continued to struggle, three men were now trying to pull her away as the fourth was opening the cell door in advance. Chow watched the scene with an amused smile, curious with the inmates behaviour; their intelligence had told them Jack would try to help her. He'd just have to intervene to make sure the prisoner acted as he was supposed to; it would probably be more effective in the long run anyway, he decided.


	28. Fight!

"Get off of me," Kim yelled as she was pulled towards the door, her face red, spittle flew from her mouth as she cried out, "you God damn Bastards!"

Chow looked up at her as his eyebrows creased together - he would talk advantage of her panic. He stepped over Jack noticing the torn look on his face - he was completely lost of how he should react to the situation. Chow grinned inside, he would help motivate him to make a decision.

The guards saw Chows movement and held the struggling girl still as their boss ordered them to do so. Kim tried to move away from the man as he stood before her, she could smell his breath, he oozed of danger and power.

Chow raised his hand and slapped the girl on each cheek as he stared at her threateningly. Kim whimpered in both shock and pain, Jack watched with horror. Chow turned to face Jack as he grabbed one of Kim's wrists, dragging her around with him. Jack sat frozen on the floor, shock absorbed him.

"Ah…." Chow said loudly, "I see you are a selfish American as I expected."

Jack looked confused, he kept his eyes on Chow not wanting to miss a beat as he had struggled into a sitting position on the floor, the injured limb still splayed out to the side; useless. He was too scared to look at Kim, the trembling whimpers he herd told him she was terrified; he didn't need to witness it.

"You fear for yourself but not your daughter," he snarled, knowing the two of them were aware of the guard positioned behind Jack, just waiting for him to make a move. Jack knew they were going to use Kim to goad him; he tried to fight it but he could feel his face reddening as his anger started to boil. The sound of the slap to his daughters face echoed through his ears as Chows ugly mocking face continued to taunt him.

Without notice Chow swung Kim around forcing her face down onto the floor as he viciously forced her arm up her back, making her cringe in pain as she tried to stay calm; she knew why they were doing this and how her reactions would effect her father.

Startled Jack tried to move forward to Chow, but the pain in his leg was too intense as is grazed against the floor. He tried to drag himself forward but he felt the guards hand on his shirt as he tried to pull him back. Incensed now, but both the attack to his daughter and his inability to stop it he looked around the room frantically as the soldier pulled him away. He swung a punch but he was too far away, so he desperately kicked out, even more encouraged when the sole of his bare foot hit Chow in the chin, making his gasp and bite his tongue and let go of Kimberly in the confusion.

Kim pulled herself up quickly and tried to move away but was swiftly apprehended by the three guards, as the fourth continued to pull at Jack. Chow looked up as he spat out a mouthful of blood, anger mixed with glee shone in his eyes.


	29. Too Much

The room fell silent as the soldiers waited for Chow to get up in hushed anticipation. Kim and Jack both stopped struggling, although Jack was scared he was satisfied with himself, even in his dreadful condition he had been able to fight back. Chow pulled his overweight frame to his feet slowly, and then his response to Jacks assault was immediate.

The large and heavy foot came stomping down on Jacks shin, right where the sledge hammers assault had left off, below the knee. The scream thundered off of the walls as the pain roared through Jacks leg, twisting and turning its way through his limb as he gasped for air and clawed at the floor to release the pressure building up, he felt like he could implode. Its sudden intensity was too much and he began to panic as he saw Chows foot raise again. He blacked out when the foot came down a second time; it was his only defence left.

Kim was cowering in the corner now, crouched down with her hands plastered over her ears as she tried to block the horrendous yell of pain from her ears. Even in its absence it swirled around her head - a sound she would never forget. She had seen the condition of his limb when they had first allowed her into his cell, like the rest of his body it was broken and battered. Only this marked their degree of brutality, it illustrated there lack of morality as they had abused the limb; just like the rest of him - and for what?

He hadn't killed the man, which is what they claimed they were punishing him for. And even if her father had been the man to pull the trigger - it had saved thousands and thousands of lives, hundreds of those people being Chinese. Didn't that matter to those people? It was a silly thing to ask, of course they didn't. They would do the same to their own people, they didn't care. Just like the government didn't care, she thought angrily, and if it wasn't for Heller and Palmer they would leave him here to rot.

'I'm not leaving him,' she thought defiantly, 'I don't care if it takes years to free him, I can't leave him here to live like this.'

Her head spun back around to Jack when she herd coughing, he was struggling to come too as his tried to breathe through the hacking coughs. Kim began to move when a soldier stood before her shaking her head, she could only watch.

Chow kicked Jack onto his side and began to laugh as Jack coughs turned to a gag before he quickly began to vomit. Once finished Chow began to tut at him mockingly before ordering him to clean his mess up. Now laid on his back exhausted and shaking from the pain still flooding through him, he could only stare up at Chow as his eyes fluttered, he was beyond tired. He couldn't do this anymore.

Chow stood over Jack as he watched his eyes weakly close then flutter back open, he knew he had pushed this man farther than others; it would be over soon.

"Are you disobeying me?"

Jacks eyes closed again as he rolled his head to the side, mentally preparing himself for the next blow. Chows foot hovered over the mangled leg again, but it was Kim's scream which stopped him from throwing it down on her father. She was fighting against the soldier again, desperate to stop the influx of pain being inflicted on Jack.

Jack rolled back over, not noticing his mess as he did so, and tried to call out to her. He lifted his arm weakly before dropping it back to the floor. He was calling out to her. Kim watched as her stomach turned again, she couldn't let him live like this.

Chow watched the ordeal and smiled as he leaned over and pulled Jack up by his hair so he was resting against the wall leant over, one hand steadying himself against it as he hovered his injured leg in the air again, desperate to protect it from more pain. Once Chow was sure the man would stay he walked over to his chair and picked up his sledgehammer. Jack paled and his whole body began to tremble as Chow stood before him, caressing the weapon which had already caused too much destruction.


	30. Confessions The End!

Jack held his breath as Chow ran his stubby fingers around the heavy weight of the hammer, a menacing smile spread over his face. Jack was alert again, but he still stood with difficulty. He wanted to be able to slide down the wall and curl up into himself and be left alone. But that was the thing dreams were made of; they would never leave him alone here. They would hurt him over and over, and for what? What did they want from him, what could he do to stop this? They didn't even want anything from him, which was most depressing than anything else, expect perhaps, to see him suffer. They seemed to enjoy that very much.

"Are you scared yet?" Chow whispered, everybody herd it still but it gave Jack shivers.

Jack got the impression it was a rhetorical question, but it seemed Chow wanted an answer as he grabbed the front of his jumpsuit and threw him to the ground. Jack breathed a sigh of relief as he landed on his good knee, his bad leg couldn't take more abuse. He looked at Chow, squinting into the dark light, and saw he wasn't angry; he didn't want an answer after all. He was playing mind games with him.

Chow tossed the weapon through the air as though it was weightless and the youngest soldier caught it with a scared expression on his face. He hadn't been expecting this; none of this was scripted - Chow was making it up as he went along. It seemed he was enjoying the freedom he had as he began to speak to the man with the weapon, Jack and Kim the only people not understanding the conversation.

The two men focussed on Kim grabbed her and manoeuvred her through the struggle and onto the floor where they pinned her down, the third man looking uncertain as he held the weapon. Chow crouched down again near Jack and spoke quietly in his ear, his meaty hand sat on Jacks knee threateningly as he did so.

"I don't think you look so good Jack… After reading your file I thought you would be able to take your punishment like a man. But you disappoint me, your nothing more than an over rated coward, just like the rest of your people."

Jack stared at him coldly but ignored his urge to lash out, it was what they wanted him to do; give them an excuse to hurt him more. But part of him wondered, was he really a coward? He had tried to run, he was too scared to fight back; what had he become?

Chows narrative continued, interrupting Jacks thoughts.

"Somebody has to pay for the death you caused. I don't think you have been punished enough for your actions, Bauer, you still haven't suffered."

Jacks breathing increased with these words, what was he saying? What more would he have to endure in the name of his country?

"But you see Jack, we can't kill you, somebody has to answer for the raid. But if we cant kill you, well we can't hurt you anymore, can we? So I have a problem, don't I?"

Jack swallowed as his mind began to look for a way out, he knew exactly where this was going but he didn't know how to stop it. He was helpless, and now he and his daughter were at there mercy. How could he have put here in this position, in such danger?

"So maybe your daughter should take your place instead, that seems fair to me."

Jack swallowed again before he tried to speak, his throat was dry and he could barely form words.

"Please, this is my crime, she has nothing to do with this, let her go."

Kim was whimpering from the ground as she herd the conversation, she couldn't take her eyes from the hammer, only a small space away from her.

"Your crime?" Chow asked, mockingly.

"Yes…" Jack answered, slightly curious at the mans question. "I should be punished, I don't dispute that. But she is innocent."

"Nobody is innocent," Chow roared suddenly incensed as he slapped Jack across the cheek with the back of his hand, before quickly moving over and grabbing the hammer from the soldier.

He waved the weapon in his hand as thought testing its weight before turning back to Jack.

"Stand up," he ordered.

Jack scrambled to his feet, he climbed on one knee as he leant against the wall, trying to pull himself up with his palms, but he couldn't. His foot wouldn't co-operate; but he still tried, scared of what would happen to Kim if he didn't.

Chow was done with waiting, his impatience added to his anger as he roared at Jack.

"Stand up and be a man!"

The guard who had held the hammer ran over and dragged Jack to his feet, he could feel the man wavering beneath him and gasping in pain. He didn't let go, knowing he would fall if he did so.

"You get to see your daughter take the punishment you are not strong enough to receive," Chow hissed as he stared at Jack, waiting for anything.

"Please," he called out desperately, "please don't do this."

Chow was seemingly ignoring him, Jack was frantically trying to get past the guard, sweat was running down his face as his suit clung to him - all fear for himself was gone. He had to stop this, she couldn't do this.

"I'm the one you wanted you bastard!" He screamed, his voice breaking and showing his panic.

Chow spun round and raced up to Jack, grabbing him by the hair and chin and slamming his head against the back wall as he held him still.

He stared at him as anger seethed through him, but also relief. Relief that he may have saved his daughter, but he knew nothing was set into stone yet; he had to make sure they didn't harm her. He glanced over Chows shoulder at Kim, she was still crying, she looked a wreck. Jack couldn't blame her, nobody should go through this.

"Please," Jack began, sensing he didn't have much time to convince Chow to hurt him. "I'll do what you want," he said rapidly as he tried to think of anything, "Just tell me what to do!" He shouted.

That was the source of his frustration, they didn't want anything from him. Or if they did, they hadn't asked. That all changed when Chow spat out more words at him, his voice equally frustrated, his deadline was approaching and he had to get the man to confess. He had to get results to show his superiors he had taken the right approach with the prisoner.

"Then stop lying to me," he grumbled, his anger taking over him as he gripped Jacks hair tighter, as though he could relive the anger and frustration he felt coursing through his blood.

Jacks face changed, from anger to confusion, then to realisation. In that same second he seemed to clam up again, tried to fix his defences. His eyes darted around the room quickly, he knew what they wanted, but he couldn't give it them. But then they had Kim, the perfect weapon to get him. Was he going to give in? 

Chow could see him thinking his options over and decided to give him something to help him make up his mind. Jack didn't see the sledgehammer raise in the air but he felt it as it fell down on his hand, crushing the bones and tearing the skin as it hit home. The scream was high pitched he had been completely unprepared. He tried to fall down but Chow held onto his hair preventing him from doing so; tears filled his eyes as he tried to gather control of himself.

Chows next words would be the ones to break him down completely. The man leaned over and spoke in his ear, softly; almost in comfort.

"You don't want your daughter to feel that kind of pain, do you?"

Jack shook his head frantically as far as he could with the grip on his hair, before letting out a chocking sob as he tried to speak. He took another deep breath before whispering 'no' in response to the question as he continued to gasp, pain ran through his hand and seemed to flare up the agony in his leg, it was all making itself felt as it protested against Jacks resistance.

Chow spoke again, snapping him back to reality.

"Then tell me what I want to know."

Jack closed his eyes as he continued to gasp with his mouth open. Chow was weary of letting him change his mind so he threw a punch at Jack, hitting him in the mouth as his head flew to the side. He bit his tongue and yelped in surprise, but this time he quickly got over the pain, he was trying to get a hold of himself.

"I…" He gasped again as he squeezed his eyes shut, furious with himself for allowing it to come to this.

"It was…" he began to cry as he spoke, loud heaving sobs shook his whole body as he realised what he was about to do. Chows eyes still stared at him coldly, they held no compassion for the mans inner torment.

"It was David Palmer, who ordered the assault."

Kim cried in relief as the guards let her go, Chow backed away from his prisoner as he began to speak into his radio. Jacks words echoed around his mind as he wondered what he had just done, before he collapsed to the floor from the pain and exhaustion. He would finally be allowed to rest.

The guards cleared out of the room in a hushed fashion, there were now more important matter to deal with than her father. They were left alone, even the sledgehammer was taken away. As the door closed behind them Kim rushed over to her father as relief engulfed her; she didn't know all of the details but her gut and the reaction of the guards told her one thing. Finally, this was over.

-

THE END!

SEQUEL PENDING J

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